PS 




LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 



f^TT 



Shelf.AiL3Cfe^ 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



THE 



CORSAIR: 

A EOMAUTIO LEGEND OF HELL GATE, 



ILLUSTRATING 



THE BEAUTY OF INNOCENCE. 

Date of the action : Midsummer, 1627. 

Author Unknown, and now First Edited. \, '^' 

' ^ \ 

With a Historical Sketch of the Strait from the Earliest 

Times. 

,<aK^V OF co;.Gv?;>- 




NEW YORK : 
Wm. B. Allen & -Co., Publishers, 

164 Fulton St., 0pp. St. Paul's. 



\ 



.K'^^^'^^ 



Copyright, 1885— by Wm. B. Allen & Co. 



PREFACE. 

ija S we have invited the reader to a long Poem, we 
<^^ feel some misgiving in setting before him a lengthy- 
Preface. We will therefore bring to his attention, as 
an Appendix, the matter intended as an Introduction, 
thus leaving him free to begin with the Story of the 
Corsair at once, while the former may afterward be 
read with advantage, should he feel interested in the 
facts and history of the locality of which it treats. 
He will also find therein some particulars relating to 
the leading characters described in the Story. There 
he will also learn why the Pirate's daughter became so 
impressed with fear as the vessel approached the turbu- 
lent Strait, whose name, even now, is suggestive of wreck 
and disaster. 



PRELUDE. 

«HIS story of the sea, 
^ Full of weird mystery, 
'Twere vain to tell to thee 

'Mid dusty lore I found it! 
You still might doubt its truth, — 
The truest tale, in sooth, 
(Such as Boaz and Ruth) 

Has gathered skeptics round it ! 

Yet, should you deign to read 
Where'er the Muse may lead. 
The tale, as you proceed, 

Will wake some tender feeling. 
Till, like a pleasant dream, 
The Corsair's Maid will seem 
To throw a hallowed beam 

Where phantom-shades were stealing! 



The Corsair. 



Nor florid prose, 
Nor honied lies of rhyme, 

Can "blazon evil deeds, 
Or consecrate a crime. 

— Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. 

The whirligig of Time 
Brings in his revenges. 

— Shakespeare. 

^SFtl^ said, in ancient times, 
^ Cursed with a thousand crimes, 
Blood-stained in all the climes, 

Sailed hither a Pirate ;— 
Elax'n was his flowing hair, 
Rake-like his haughty air, 
Eyes that revealed despair. 

His passions fierce and irate. 



The Corsair. 

Sprung from the Vikings bold,— 
Sea-kings they were of old 
Who held their warlike hold 

On Norway's stormy shore,— 
He made the sea his home, 
And hoped, where he might roam, 
The waves would be his tomb 

When he should be no more ! 

His Norman castle lost. 
His fate by battle crossed, 
His life like ship a-tossed, 

The raging seas pursuing. 
He reared a stronger hold, 
Afar from winter's cold, 
And filled its cells with gold 

From many a ship subduing. 

He'd sailed o'er tropic seas ; 
'Mong sun-bright Cyclades • 
Before the gelid breeze, 

And gales Siberian ; — 
Upon the Spanish Main 
Captives many he had slain, 
Blood running there like rain 

From veins Iberian ! 

Thrice, when o'ermatched in fight. 
He sailed through Hell Gate, light 



The Corsair. 

As sea-mew out of sight 

Through tempest-clouds careering, 
While ships for war arrayed, 
The treach'rous rocks delayed, 
Or there forever staid — 

To Pluto's realms steering ! 

Once, sweeping o'er the Sound, 
Amid the dark profound, 
These fateful words resound — 

" A foel— They must defend her!" 
While a frigate on their course 
Hailed them in stormy Norse, 
Shrill, clear and free, then hoarse, 

Demanding their surrender ! 

Laden with golden store. 
The Pirate sunk in shore 
A thousand bars or more 

Before he joined in battle : 
Then roared his guns amain, 
Then poured his iron rain. 
Till groaned the decks with slain, 

Mid spars' and cables' rattle. 

Down went the Norseman brave, 
Down to his sea-green grave. 
No more to be a slave 



The Corsair. 

Where the dark norns* bewilder !— 
Athwart the morning skies 
The wheeling sea-bird flies 
And mocks the coral's rise, 

Old Neptune's silent builder. 

The Pirate's buried gold 
Sands of the Sound still hold, 
Nor wizard's wand has told 

The place of its concealing ; 
Yet, ere the Corsair died, 
He sought these waters wide 
More spoil, perhaps, to hide. 

Or this, perchance, revealing 

Ere Fortune frowned again. 
That oft had brought him pain, 
Instead of golden gain. 

The only thing he cherished. 
Save her he wed of 3'ore, 
Save the bright child she bore, 
His blue-e.yed Leonore — 

For these he would have perished ! 

But ere he spread his sail, 
To catch the westward gale, 



* In Scandinavian mythology, the three fates, j;rt5f, present, 
B,nd future. 



The Corsair. 

His vassals, growing pale, 

Sighed at the words then spoken ;- 
Hushed was the wassail all 
Within the castle hall, 
And shadows on the wall 

Grew phantom-like and broken. 

For, o'er the Corsair grim, ^ 
There came a wayward whim 
That hither should sail with him 

His daughter Leonore, 
Who, bright and beautiful, 
Was always dutiful, 
With pride not yet too full 

She left her island shore. 

Her father's castle there 
Soon fades, a speck in air. 
With banners floating fair 

From loop and turret, waning. 
Then on the deck— alone- 
She knelt to Nature's Throne, 
Whose God rules there— unknown- 

The mighty billows chaining. 

Unknown her father's trade, 
Unseen his reeking blade. 
Not yet had that sweet maid 
Found he was cruel-hearted ; 



10 The Corsair. 

For, guarded in her home, 
Whene'er his ship did come, 
She, not allowed to roam, 

Ne'er from her mother parted. 

Few were the tears she shed, 
As o'er the waves she sped. 
Without one hope ahead 

To cheer the loved behind iier ! 
And though too brave to fear. 
She sighed to leave those dear 
For skies less bright and clear, 

Faint filial love to bind her ; 

For, 'mid his reveling band, 

Her father held in hand. 

And poured, while he could stand, 

The purple grapes' libation. 
Till quite forgot was she, 
Whose eyes, he said, should be 
The light of every sea, 

The pride of queenly station ! 

Soon — when his ship was light — 
He met in tropic night 
A foe, with armor bright, 

Off the Azores : 
Up went the Pirate's flag — 



The Corsair. 11 



Black, as round Pico's crag* 
The infant storm-clouds lag 
Before they sweep the shores. 

Far o'er the waters threw 
The moon her amber hue, 
As swift the foeman's crew 

Their guns unlimbered ; — 
Then, as when thunders roar, 
Their broadsides they did pour, 
Which did the pirate gore. 

Though heavily timbered. 

Undaunted on his track, 
The Corsair would not slack 
While pouring fire back 

From every gun's embrasure, — 
For, once his crew aboard, 
The conflict, sword to sword, 
Had made the Pirate loi'd 

Of ship and golden treasure. 

Unequal grew the figlit, — 
The pirate's guns, too liglit, 
The Dutchman could not "bite'' — 
Van Tromp, the Admiral ! 



* Pico is a very high mountain on one of the Azores, from 
which the island derives its name. 



12 The Corsair. 

Who loved these tropic shores, 
Where Night her starlight pours, 
And heard from the Azores 
Love's sweetest madrigal * 

Then mid that dreadful fray 
Fair Leonore did pray — 
*' Oh, father, do not stay. 

Or we shall all be slaughtered ! — 
I dreamt but yesternight 
A frigate hove in sight 
With men, in armor bright, 

Who ne'er midst carnage loitered ! " 

" Nay — daughter, do not fear ! — 
The Dutch we'll conquer here ! — 
Ho, men I make ready — clear 

The foeman's decks, undaunted ! " 
But ere his men could test 
Their foemen, breast to breast. 
The wind veered to the west, 
As if the seas were haunted ! 

Far o'er the sultry main 
There rose a hurricane, 
Black, as was Chaos' reign 

Before the earth was lighted ; — 



* It is said that the inhabitants of the Azores are much 
addicted to gallantry. 



The Corsair. 13 

The heavens seemed roll 
Together like a scroll, 
As flashed from pole to pole 
The spirit long benighted ! 

Out of the tempest's gloom — 
As from unhallowed tomb — 
A raven on the boom 

Fluttered above the Pirate ! — 
The croaking of the bird 
The crew in terror heard — 
Death ! " was the fearful word 

It uttered, wild and irate ! 

Wide grew their vacant stare — , 

More grim their dumb despair — 
As thunder-bursts in air 

Came pealing — booming — crashing ! 
While, like red meteors' blaze. 
The lightning's lurid rays 
Lit spars and sails and stays 

With never-ceasing flashing! 

Oh, the wild hurricane ! 
Thou terror of the main ! 
What victims thou hast slain, 

The fairest tropic scourging! 
Though in thy maddest mood. 
Thou did'st the Corsair good. 



14 The Corsair. 

Else had bis crew been food, 

Beneatb tbe green waves' surging ! 

So quick tbe tempest came — 
Witb tbunder and with flame — 
The Dutchman's fire was tame 

From which the pirate parted! 
Then o'er the angry sea, 
As strove each sliip to be 
Well braced toward the lee,- 

They, through the storm-clouds, darted! 

Long was that famous chase — 
The hurricane's embrace 
Long lines of foam did trace 

As fast they sped to leeward : 
The pirate, swift of wing, 
Flew, like a bird in spring. 
Away from the storm-king. 

Sweeping from seaward. 

Till, like a mighty ghost, 
A headland on the coast, 
Grim as a sullen host 

In battle late defeated. 
Rose like a tower of stone — 
As pale the moonbeams shone — 
And then in darkness — gone — 

Like host that had retreated I 



The Corsair. 15 

" Oh, flither ! '' cried the maid, 

Like one of ghosts afraid, 
" What is that dreadful shade 

That looras before us ?" 
^* 'Tis but the land, my girl. 
That bends in graceful whorl, 
And soon 'twill shine like pearl, 

When bright the sun beams o'er us ! " 

With fortune now more kind, 
They sped before the wind 
Six days — the Dutch behind 

Growling like thunder, 
Before their path was seen 
To glow with light between 
The isles that lay serene 

In all their tropic wonder. 

Then came more dreary days, — 
Dull — dark — with misty rays 
A moment in a blaze, 

And then in darkness ending ! — 
At last fair Leonore, 
Longing to tread the shore. 
Cried — ** Will we nevermore 

Escape this gloom impending ? 

" I know — oh — father dear. 
Some dread mishap is near — 



16 The Corsair. 

A third night, dark and drear, 
The scowling Dutch behind us ! '' 
"Nay, daughter ; — soon the Sound 
We'll reacli, 'mid isles around ; — 
I know each pass profound, — 
No Dutchman there can find us ! 

" Yes — ere that fair expanse 
The foe can win — perchance. 
Old Nick himself may dance 

Upon his quarter-railing ! — 
Through Hell Gate's narrow way 
His ship will go astray. 
Till gored, like ship of clay, 

She ends her days of sailing ! " 

Another night — '''Heigh-ho ! " 
The reef-foam gleamed like snow, — 
Old Coney's serf below, 

The Narrows stretched before them- 
With Staten on their left. 
And Bedloe's, far bereft, 
And Grovernor's, as cleft 

From Brooklyn, frowning o'er them. 

** I pray thee, father, tell 
Why doth that doleful bell 
Sound so much like a knell, 
So near this gloom}^ water ? " 



The Corsair. 17 

** 'Tis nought, my Leonore, 
But watchmen on the shore, 
Who toll, while bui-ghers snore, 
To fright the Fiend of Slaughter ! 

" For here the Indian roves 
Through islands' darkling groves, 
And those he hates he loves 

To wing his arrows through them ; 
For they are robbers come 
To steal away his home ; 
Tribe after tribe must roam, 

And b'cii in trade they * do ' them ! " ^ 

Past Walhibont's cosy nook. 
And stormy Corlear's Hook, 
Which many a storied book 

Involves in truth and fable, — 
Past Blackwell's wooded shore. 
Where turbid waters pour, 
Dark, sullen evermore, 

Ignoring man or cable ; — 



* That usually reliable, though sometimes facetious histo- 
rian, Diedrich Knickerbocker, informs us that Dutch traders, 
bartering for furs among the Indians, two or three centuries 
ago, were wont to tell them that a Dutchman's foot invariably 
iveighed a pound, thus taking in the red man's peltry — and the 
Indian into the bargain ! 



The Corsair. 

Past tiiese the pirate's sail 
Swells wide before tlie gale, 
Wliicli, like a demon's wail, 
Sigbs through the cordage, shrilling. 
" Oh, father! " cries the maid, 
" If blood be on your blade, 
Pray now to Heaven for aid 
While Heaven yet is willing ! 

" The stormy petrels fly 
Along the waves more nigh — 
Then wheel athwart the sky, 

Heralds of storm impending! 
Nearer the lightnings flash — 
Nearer the thunders crash — 
Louder the Avaters lash 

These baleful shores, unending ! 

" Behold those racking clouds ! 
List to the shivering shrouds ! 
Lo ! spirits come in crowds 

From yonder lurid shore! 
Oh, father ! bend thy knee 
Before that fier}' sea 
Sweeps over thee and me, — 

Lost — lost — forevermore ! " 

" Hush — daughter! — Do not think 
Your father fears to sink 



The Corsair. 19 

Who's stood on Death's dark brink 

In many a furious fray ! — 
Our castle by the sea 
Is Heaven's shrine to me, 
Where one on bended knee 

This night for us will pray ! '^ 

" Oh, father ! List ! —I hear 
Swift rapids roaring near ; — 
Oh, what is it I fear 

So close our promised haven ? " 
•" 'Tis nought, my Leonore, 
But waters 'long the shore. 
That through dark Hell Gate pour. 
Clamorous as a raven !" 

^' Then, turn, my father, back, — 
I hear the vessel crack, — 
I dread those waters black. 
Hot as the lightning o'er us ! " 
^' Nay — daughter — fear no harm, — 
Their tides are not more warm 
Than springs upon a farm, — 
No danger lurks before us ! " 

Through Hell Gate's narrow pass 
He steered his ship, alas ! 
A ship no more tlian glass 
In that fierce current ! — 



20 The Corsair. 

Among the ragged rocks, 
With many thundering shocks, 
The blood-stained cruiser blocks 
The deep, Pkitonian torrent ! 

His daughter Leonore 
Alone did reach the shore, 
The rest were nevermore 

Beheld on this bright planet! — 
For them no more shall blow 
The winds where spices grow, — 
Their flag trails down below 

Where breeze shall never fan it ! 

Their eyes have turned to stone, 
That oft in battle shone ; — 
Their hair to sea-kelp grown, 

'Neath wind and wave's commotion, 
Shall stream no more to breeze 
Across the Arctic seas. 
Or blue Symplegades 

Damp with the spray of ocean. 

The Pirate's daughter lay 
On yonder rock till day, 
When from the Lower Bay 

Sailed hither a cruiser, 
On which a young King came. 
Whose heart was set aflame 



The Corsair. 21 

(Which no fond maid will blame) 
While trying to amuse her ! 

On board the royal craft, 

The maiden wept and laughed, 

By turns, like one that's daft, 

With grief and joy o'erweighted ; 
While (always at her side) 
The kingly sailor's pride 
Grew fainter, till it died, 

In Beauty's glor}^ fated ! — 

Fair islands of the sea 
Were his — as she must be — 
He said, in playful glee. 

And threw a necklace o'er her ! 
Then on his noble breast 
She laid her head to rest, 
Though half afraid to test 

The golden dream before her ! 

No woman's heart will deign 

To question more, — 'twere vain ; — 

The lands of Deloraine 

Were hers forevermore ! 
And there the orange grew, 
And buds of fragrance blew, 
And birds of brightness flew, 

And loved was Leonore ! 



22 The Corsair. 

And there — worth all the rest — 
Her children — loved — caressed — 
Imbibed their mother's quest 

To bless and be a blessing ; — 
And so she reigned in them 
Till Life became a gem 
(More prized than diadem), 

Loved more for Love's caressing I 

In all her life there came 
But one dark fate — the same 
That gave her name to Fame, 

Her father to the torrent, 
Where lie grim wrecks of Hope — 
And skeletons darkly grope 
'Mong ships without a rope 

Beneath the surging current ! 

Thus, Innocence alone 
Survived — to reach a throne ; 
Her crown, the richest stone 

That e'er with gold was blended !- 
Long has her virtuous sway, 
Like sunshine, passed away — 
And so I pause to sa}^ 

The Corsair's tale is ended ! 



APPENDIX. 
1627— 1885. 

Legendary — Historical — Statistical. 

"^liELL Gate, the scene of the tragedy described in the 
^H|i foregoing pages, is not now what it was in former 
times. Its turbulent character has been modified to 
such a degree that it has already lost half its terrors. The 
mariner now, by skillful piloting, can avoid its dangers 
and bring his ship safely from the jaws of this modern 
Charybdis. Not so in days remote, — its numerous 
rocks, islands, shelves and whirlpools rendering it terrible 
to the most skillful pilot at certain times of tide. This 
long-desired change has been brought about by the 
Government, which has expended millions of dollars in 
making this narrow strait leading to the Sound less 
dangerous to the navigator. Though it has been the 
scene of numerons tragedies, its history is not altogether 
uninteresting — and first, as regards its name. There 
having been considerable controversy, in times past, as 
to its correct orthography, we have taken some trouble 
to investigate the matter. Some writers have insisted 
that it should be spelt Hurl Gate. Ancient records, 
however, do not bear them out in this respect. The 
map in Van der Donck's History, published in 1656; 
Ogilvie's History of America, 1671, and also a journal 
written in the sixteenth century, found in Hazard's State 
Papers, give the name as printed in the Poem. Besides 
these ancient and trustworthy authorities, there is a 



24 Appendix. 

venerable essay in French, which, speaking of various 
changes made in names about New York, observes — 
*' De Helle-gat, trou d'EnJer, lis ont fait Hell- Gate, 
Porte d'Enfer.'' 

For aught we know the heroine of this strange legend, 
which the author has sought to illustrate in verse, may. 
have read the above passage in French ; — if so, her 
childish fear, after her father had spoken of their close 
proximity to the fatal strait, was no more intense than 
we can readily understand, when we take into account 
the superstitious age in which the actors lived. 

The perching of a raven upon the boom of the vessel, 
off the Azores, contributed also to impress the Pirate's 
daughter with evil forebodings. Nor could she escape 
observing the consternation of the sailors who beheld it 
fluttering over her father's head, and overheard its dread- 
ful prophecy. This bird, as is well known, is exceed- 
ingly intelligent, and can be taught to articulate words. It 
lives to a great age, a hundred years or more, and from 
remote periods of history has been connected with vari- 
ous popular superstitions. The Bible gives the first 
historical notice of this species. We are told that 
at the end of forty days, after the great flood had covered 
the earth, Noah, wishing to ascertain whether or no the 
waters had abated, sent forth a raven, which did not re- 
turn into the ark. When Elijah provoked the enmity 
of Ahab, by prophesying against him, and hid himself 
by the Brook Cherith, the ravens were appointed by 
Heaven to bring him his daily food. Though thus hon- 
ored, this bird seems in all ages to have been considered 
ominous of evil, and, in the days of auguries and divina- 
tion, like the Banshee of the Irish, was thought to pos- 
sess the power of foretelling future events — especially such 
as were dark, gloomy, and foreboding. 

Perhaps no bird is more widely distributed over the 



Appkndtx. 25 

surface of the globe. A British writer says, it * croaks 
as gravely as with ourselves on the shores of the Black 
and Caspian Seas, visits our Indian metropolis of Cal- 
cutta, forces it way over the guarded shores of Japan, 
dwells among our busy descendants of America, ranges 
from Mount Etna to the Iceland cold of Hecla, and 
braves the rigor of the Arctic regions as far as Melville's 
Island." Dr. Richardson says that *Mt frequents the 
Barren Grounds of the most intense winter cold, its# 
movements being directed in a great measure by those of 
the herds of reindeer, musk-oxen, and bisons, which it 
follows, ready to assist in devouring such as are killed 
by beasts of prey or by accident." Captain Ross speaks 
of it as *'one of the few birds capable of braving the 
severity of an Arctic winter." 

Although we have the pestering crow, with its un- 
varying ** 6'<22z;, cazo, caw / ^^ almost everywhere in our 
Eastern States, the raven is rarely seen there, yet it is 
common in the West, and thence northward to the Fur 
Countries. In this State it has its favorite haunts, one 
of which is the region about Niagara Falls. Here, min- 
gling its croakings with the roar of waters, it seems still 
more solemn and mysterious than elsewhere. Here one 
might read Poe's " Raven," which, by its spectral im- 
ages, produces a striking eiFect on the imagination, and 
feel the force of the poet's language as in no other lo- 
cality : — 

" Open here I flung my shutter, 
When, with many a flirt and flutter, 
In there stepp'd a stately raven 

Of the sai ntly days of yore : 
Not the least obeisance made lie. 
Not an instant stopp'd or staid he. 
But, with mein of lord or lady, 

Perched above my chamber door — 
Perched upon a bust of Pallas, 



26 Appendix. 

Just above my chamber door ; 
Perched and sat, and notliiug more. 

" Then tliis ebon bird beguiling 
My sad fancy into smiling, 
By the grim and stern decorum 

Of the countenance it wore : 
* Though thy crest be sliorn and shaven, 
Thou' — I said — 'art sure no craven. 
Ghastly, grim, and ancient raven, 

Wandering from the nightly shore — 
Tell me what thy lordly name is. 

On the night's Plutonian shore ? ' — 

Quoth the raven, 'Nevermore!'" 

" ' Be that word our sign of parting, 
Bird or fiend,' I shrieked upstarting: 
' Get thee back into the tempest. 

And the night's Plutonian shore! 
Leave no black plume as a token 
Of that lie tliy soul hath spoken — 
Leave my loneliness unbroken, 

Quit the bust above my door; 
Take thy beak from out my heart, 

And take thy form from off my door ' — 

Quoth the raven, ' Nevermore ! ' " 

Sailors, it is well known, are very superstitious in re- 
gard to birds alighting on their vessels. On such occa- 
sions they call them devil's birds, witches, etc. The 
appearance of storinv petrels at sea has been supposed 
to portend rough weather, and they are therefore not wel- 
come visitors to sailors. These birds seem to delight in 
storm and tempest, now sweeping down into the trough 
of the sea, and now soaring high up among the clouds, 
and wheeling athwart them, as if enjoying a frolic. They 
are said to haunt the whole Atlantic seaboard. Their 
habit of paddling along the surface of the water obtained 
for them the name of petrel, from the Apostle Peter, wha 
walked upon the water. It is probably to the birds of 



Appendix. 2T 

this species — the fearless riders of the tempest — that 
Brainard refers in his song of" The Sea-Bird" : — 

" On tlie deep is the mariner's danger, 
On the deep is the mariner's death ; 
Wlio, to fear of the tempest a stranger, 
Sees the last bubble burst of his breast ? 
'Tis the sea-bird, sea-bird, sea-bird, 

Lone looker on despair ; 
The sea-bird, sea-bird, sea-bird, 
The only witness there ! 

''Who hovers on high o'er the lover, 
And her who has clung to liis neck? 
Whose wing is the wing that can cover 
With its shadow the foundering wreck ? 
'Tis the sea-bird, etc. 

'' My eye in the light of the billow, 
My wing in the wake of the wave ; 
I shall take to my breast for a pillow 
The shroud of the fair and the brave ! 
I'm the sea-bird, etc. 

"My foot on the iceberg has lighted 

When hoarse the wild winds veer about; 
My eye, when the bark is benighted, 
Sees the lamp in the light-house go out! 
I'm the sea-bird, sea-bird, sea-bird, 

Lone looker on despair; 
The sea-bird, sea-bird, sea-bird, 
The only witness there ! " 

One word as to the Corsair's nationality : Though 
not a historical fact, the legend, meagre as it is, is ex- 
plicit enough in regard to his having been originally one 
of those bold Northmen who roamed the seas in the six- 
teenth century, though at the opening of the foregoing 
story he had his stronghold in some more salubrious cli- 
mate than the North, probably on one of the Grecian 
Isles. But his early years were doubtless spent in quest 
of adventure in his native Norway seas. As in ages, 
past, so even now the Norwegian youth who lives near 



28 Apprndix. 

the coast, takes to the sea, though in legitimate pursuits, 
as naturally as his Berserker ancestors. The Vikings 
•of Norway were the boldest of all ancient mariners of a 
piratical character. They looked upon the sea as their 
home; — the tempest was their delight. The ship to 
them was as a living thing ; — they guided it with a spirit 
as exulting and confident as a rider does his steed. 
** Blow where thou wilt, O wind," they cried, ** whither- 
soever thou takest us, the land is ours ! " 

As regards the obstructions in Hell Gate, we have 
gathered a few facts which may interest the reader. 
Though the sources are various, their authenticity may 
be relied on. The East River, of which Hell Gate forms 
a part, receives the tide at its two extremities ; at the 
eastern extremity, the Sound tide ; at the western, the 
Sandy Hook tide. The times as well as the heights of 
these tides are different. To make it still more difficult 
for the mariner, there are three channels existing at this 
historic place; that is, between the north point of Black- 
well's Island and Negro Point on Ward's Island. The 
eastern channel is six hundred feet wide, and lies be- 
tween the Astoria shore and the middle reef, parts of 
which were formerly known as the Indian Flood Rock, 
Chickens, and Negro Head; then we have the middle 
channel, between the middle reef and the reef containing 
Great and Little Mill Rocks, and finally the main ship 
•channel, between the last reef and the New York shore. 
Formerly, vessels bound eastward on the flood, taking 
the eastern channel, in the endeavor to get around the 
reef at Hallet's Point, ran the risk of being carried upon 
the Frying Pan, near Ward's Island, while vessels bound 
westward on the ebb, were thrown so much off by the 
reef at Hallet's Point as to be endangered by the set of 
the tide directly upon the middle reef It was obvious, 
therefore, that the reef at Hallet's Point and the middle 



Appendix. 21> 

reef constituted the chief obstacles to the safe passage of 
ships and other craft. 

Besides these great barriers, many smaller rocks con- 
tributed to increase the dangers awaiting the hapless 
mariner who boldly sought the waters of the Sound at 
unpropitious times of tide and weather. More dangerous 
because hidden, we give the names of a few of these 
formidable obstructions : Pot Rock, situated in mid 
channel between Ward's Island and the Astoria shore, 
was a pyramidal rock, the depth over it being about 
eighteen feet. Frying Pan had a depth of nine feet over 
it. Way's Reef and Shelldrake, situated in Pot Cove, 
had depths of water of five and eight feet respectively. 
In the main channel there were two great obstructions — 
the Heel Tap Rocks, north of Great Mill Rock, and Ry- 
lander Reef, on the New York shore, near 92d street. 

Old Dutch chronicles inform us that the unwieldy ves- 
sels from the fatherland were sometimes drawn into the 
vortex of that tremendous whirlpool called the Pot, where 
they were whirled about in giddy mazes until the senses 
of their commanders and crews were overpowered by the 
horror of the scene, and the strangeness of the revolution. 

Certain it is, that to the horrific accounts of Dutch 
navigators may be traced some of the various traditions 
handed down of this marvellous Strait. It is also true 
that these ancient mariners gave this pass the name of 
Helle-gat, or as it has been interpreted. Hell Gate, 

For nearly half a century men have been blasting away 
at the jagged reefs which jut out into the narrow chan- 
nels which connect Long Island Sound with the Bay of 
New York. For centuries ships have struck on these 
same rocks. The average, in years lately passed, has 
been nearly one vessel a week. Though many of the 
obstructions were cleared out by the great explosion, 
planned and executed by Gen. John Newton, U.S.A., 



30 Appendix. 

some ten years ago, yet the dangerous character of the strait 
remained. At last, the Government decided to tunnel 
underneath the middle reef (Flood Rock) — and at one 
tremendous explosion blow everything skyward. For 
nearly a decade men worked night and day to accom- 
plish that end. The quantity of dynamite and powder 
used in charging the mine is said to have been 275,000 
pounds. 

Great Mill Rock, lying midway in Hell Gate, almost 
opposite the island-reef that has just been doomed to 
destruction, is supposed to have been the Rock on which 
the Corsair's daughter was thrown when her father's ship 
went down. The writer of these pages once knew a lady 
who, in her youth, lived with her parents on this same 
island, her father at that time being in the employ of the 
Government. This lady always seemed delighted when 
telling any one how she had often carried convicts, who 
had escaped from the prisons on Blackwell's Island, in her 
skifFto the main-land. Of course, such little frolics hap- 
pened when she was young, romantic, and — sympathetic. 
To make these feats of bravery appear more daring, ihey 
were accomplished late at night. 

There were nearly four miles of tunneling under Flood 
Rock, or about 21,670 feet. The longest galleries were 
four blocks in length, or 1,200 feet. If these galleries 
had been in a straight line their distance would have been 
equal to a walk from the Battery to Forty-second street. 
Twenty-four galleries or tunnels were run from north 
'to south, which were intersected by forty-six others, 
running nearly east and west. The tunnels were on an 
average ten feet from floor to ceiling and six or eight feet 
wide. The rock taken from them measured 80,000 cubic 
yards. There were 467 huge pillars supporting the roof. 
All through these galleries and corridors workmen had 
bored holes nine feet deep and three inches in diam.eter. 



Appendix. 31 

The columns were also honey-combed with holes. There 
were 13,286 of such holes, which were filled with dyna- 
mite and • powder cartridges. The chief engineer had 
only to touch an electric button to explode all this de- 
structive compound. Had one of those unpleasant look- 
ing cartridges fallen from the hand of a workman upon 
the rocky floor, and exploded, it would have ignited all 
the rest, and thus caused a terrible disaster. Each car- 
tridge weighed about six pounds. They resembled roll- 
ing-pins in size, and were delivered at Flood Rock by 
a tug-boat. They were received in square boxes, and, if 
they had been placed in a line, they would have reached 
twenty-two miles. The previous explosion at Hell Gate, 
directed by the same engineer, was effected with 50,000 
pounds of rack-a-rock. During the charging of the mine 
at that time the workmen dropped three cartridges. 
We have heard of but one having been dropped at Flood 
Rock. Of course the greatest precaution was exercised 
to prevent a catastrophe. Twenty picked miners had 
charge of placing the cartridges in position. An elevator 
ran up and down the shaft bringing explosives to the men 
below. The cartridges were hoisted on cars and trundled 
away by mule power to the diff^erent corridors. 

There was a weird, strange fascination about those 
dimly-lighted caverns, and the visitor often stopped to 
admire the marvellous effect of light on the great blocks 
of crystal quartz over which the clear water rippled in 
brightness and splendor. A wooden bridge spanned a 
deep ditch, which was so accurately laid out that it col- 
lected nearly all the water that found its way into the 
tunnels. The pumps disposed of this at the rate of 
40,000 gallons per hour. The late explosion, it is as- 
serted by those familiar with the subject, was the great- 
est ever known in the world. Now that the nine or ten 
acres of rock and island are blown up, dredging machines 



32 Appendix. 

will clear the channel, and dump the stone into almost 
bottomless holes in the neighborhood. The mixing of 
such an immense quantity of powder so near the city was 
done on Little Mill Rock Island, under the careful su- 
pervision of Lieutenant Derby. The compound was 
mixed in a lead-lined tank by men who used wooden 
hoes. It was then poked from a ti^ugh into copper cylin- 
ders two and a half inches in diameter and two feet long, 
and pressed down solid with wooden rammers. Each cyl- 
inder when full was soldered so as to make it water-tight. 

When compared to the great operations that have just 
terminated, those of the past seem like child's play. 
Maillefort's process of discharging cans filled with gun- 
powder was only useful in removing projecting points 
of rock. It was entirely inadequate to cope with flat 
areas of rock, and after three years — 1851, 1852, and 
1853 — operations were suspended, with no great results, 
while the hungry reefs and boiling floods claimed their 
victims as before. 

Though this work has cost much treasure, never was 
money better spent. The scene of this great undertaking 
lies in the collection district of New York, the nearest 
port of entry. The amount of revenue collected during the 
year 1884, was, in round numbers, over $135,000,000. 
The amount of commerce and navigation that will be 
benefitted by the completion of this work daily is esti- 
mated at millions of dollars. 

The cry — so familiar to those who ply the waters 
of the Sound — *' Look out for breakers ! " will resound 
in this often-fatal locality no more — and Flood Rock, 
with all its obstructions, it is hoped, has disappeared for- 
ever beneath the green tide that swells through this once- 
turbulent Strait. 



^ ^OUVENIR 



GREAT EXPLOSION 



Historical Sketch of the Famous Strait 
dtiriuff the last 250 Years, 



'■^% 



LIBRftRY OF CONGRESS 

H. 

015 785 288 7 



